Not Always the Bad Guy
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: War changes people. Even Malfoys. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing HP related.

This will be a multi-chapter story. Please, feel free to let me know what you think.

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Chapter 1

"Damn it!" Hermione Granger gasped as the antiseptic touched the gash on her left hand.

"Please, Granger, feel free to keep it down," Draco Malfoy sneered from across their shared common room. "I'm trying to study."

Hermione glared at him, wishing she had her wand. It would have been the perfect time to hex him. She bit her lip to keep another painful groan from escaping. She heard a thump as Malfoy slammed his book closed and let it fall to the floor.

"What did you do to yourself?" he inquired, crouching next to her as he reached for the hand that she now pulled away. One pale blonde eyebrow quirked at her. If she wanted to be immature, he'd let her. Standing back up, Draco straightened his robes and prepared to walk away.

"Weasley product," Hermione told him. Draco slowly turned back to face her. "Fred sent it to me to test out. I think it bit me," she added, examining the cut that still bled a bit.

"Stupid weasels," Draco muttered, returning to her side. Picking up a fresh towel, he held his hand out for her own. Hesitantly, Hermione allowed him to touch her, wincing only when the soft cotton hit the wound. "Why are you doing this the hard way? I find magic works on this kind of injury."

A blush crept up her neck. "I'll admit, I hadn't thought of it," Hermione replied sheepishly. She felt the tap of his wand against her skin and the cut vanished into nothingness. Draco's hand was cool against her own as he toweled away the mess left by the antiseptic and blood. A few seconds later he dropped her hand.

They sat in an awkward silence, both fidgeting, mouths opening and closing as thoughts formulated and were dropped.

"Why did you do that for me?" she finally asked, staring down at her hands.

He gave her a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Can't stand blood," was the only answer he gave her. Draco chanced a quick look at the bushy-haired bookworm sitting next to him.

She was smiling.

At him.

"Sure, okay," she replied, the smile still gracing her features. The light from the fire danced in her brown eyes, making them twinkle. They reminded him of the fairy lights that annoyed him so greatly at Christmastime. This time, however, when it was her eyes, he wasn't nearly as perturbed by them.

"Just...don't let it go to your head, Granger," he retorted. "Merlin knows that hair of yours is big enough. If your ego inflates anymore you won't be able to walk through doorways."

Hermione glared at him. "I guess you'll just have to teach me how to get around with a swollen head."

She expected to be hexed or jinxed or cursed. Instead, Draco Malfoy laughed. With her, not at her. "Touche, Granger," was all he said.

A weight lifted off her shoulders at that moment, making the next round of silence infinitely less awkward.

This time Draco spoke first. "Why are you helping those identical weasels, anyhow?"

Hermione's head whipped around, her hair nearly poking him in the eye. "Why do you feel the need to always call them that? Would it really kill you to be nice?"

"Yes, I fear, and I'm too young to die," Draco affectedly replied, a hand falling across over his heart. The petulant scowl on his face reminded Hermione of a five year old.

"Well, you're being nice to me right now," she pointed out. "And as far as I can tell you're still alive."

Draco rose, striding over to the staircase that would lead to his room. "I'll just quit while I'm ahead then," he glanced back over his shoulder at her. Hermione looked clearly defeated. "Good night."

It had been several months since the pair had been thrust together as Head Boy and Head Girl. The first two months were filled with tension and biting insults, which then diffused into long bouts of ignoring the other's presence entirely. This phase was new. Never before had civilized conversation occurred between them, much less Draco Malfoy deigning to touch a mudblood.

"Figures," she said, stopping him in his tracks.

"What was that?" he asked, turning around to face her.

"I said it figures that Draco Malfoy would be a quitter," she stated, a self satisfied grin quirking up her lips. The young witch watched as the Slytherin prince's features hardened like stone.

His lips curled into the familiar Malfoy sneer as he spoke. "You know nothing about me," Draco told her. "Don't for a second think that just because you're book smart you've got me figured out."

She wasn't going to back down to Draco Malfoy. "You do everything you do because your daddy tells you what to think and how to feel. You've got this need, don't you, to prove yourself to him? You don't have to be him. Be your own person, Draco. One Lucius Malfoy is more than this world needs."

Draco flinched as his father's name rolled off her tongue. His father the Death Eater, the man who ingrained in his only son that pure blood was all that mattered in the world, the man who threatened to yank his son from school so soon after the war because his pride was still all that mattered to him.

"He didn't want me to come back," Draco spoke so softly that Hermione had to strain to hear. She didn't dare speak for fear that he would stop. "The place is still overrun with mudbloods and halfbloods, and my father...my stupid father, still holds onto _his _ways."

His anger was palpable as he continued to speak. "I don't want to be him. Not anymore," Draco declared. "I'm done with him."

Hermione carefully placed her hand on Draco's arm, hoping a soothing touch would calm him. He didn't pull away, he didn't recoil from her touch. "I guess I was wrong then," she said.

His gray eyes glistened when he looked at her. "I don't care about that," he mumbled, playing with a loose thread at the cuff of his robes. Draco felt a cold spot on his arm at the absence of Hermione's hand. A small part of him missed that contact.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione whispered. This time she stood to leave him in peace, but his hand caught the bottom hem of her robes, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

"I can admit that I've been a real prat to you over the last few years," he told her. "Can't say you really deserved any of it, either."

"It's fine, really," she replied, hoping he'd release his grip on her so she could leave.

Draco shook his head, not one hair moving from its perfectly set place. "It's not alright, Hermione," he shouted, standing to face her. His hand grasped her wrist, begging her silently not to move, not to look away from him. "I've never asked anyone to forgive me before. Never thought I needed it, that I was above people's forgiveness. I've hexed you, called you horrible names, was an absolute chicken while you fought valiantly."

Her free arm wrapped itself around his backside, pulling him as best as she could into a hug. He released her wrist, feeling it repeat the other arm's movement. It took a few seconds before he thought to reciprocate her actions.

"I can't believe you let me do that," Hermione said, letting out a slight giggle. "Feeling the need to launder now?"

Draco pulled away from her, but smiled. "It might be easier to just jump in the shower fully dressed."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to those who've read and reviewed so far. I always appreciate it! I have the next couple of chapters written, just working on 5 now. They should be posted soon! PS - I own nothing!

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Chapter 2

"I don't know if you've noticed," Ron Weasley said, walking out of the Great Hall following breakfast, "but Draco Malfoy just walked past the three of us without saying anything."

"Yeah, and I think he nodded at Hermione," Harry Potter chimed in.

Hermione sighed. "Did it ever occur to you two that Draco might not be as bad as you think?"

"Draco? Now he's Draco? Who was it enlarged your teeth fourth year until they hit your chin?" Ron asked.

"And who was the one who's called you 'mudblood' continuously since second year?" Harry inquired.

"I get it, please stop listing examples," Hermione retorted, before turning away with a huff. She never expected them to understand. There was a different Draco that only she saw. It reminded her of the imaginary friend she had as a child. The last words she heard as she stormed off up the staircase were from Ron's mouth. "What do you reckon is wrong with her?" he'd asked.

Tunnel-vision took over as she walked through the corridors, the sound of her Mary Jane's thumping against the floor the only sound that filled her ears. It astounded her just how much like the old Draco Malfoy Ron and Harry could be - close-minded, insulting, belittling. They would never accept that Draco could be a different person, that he could change.

Hermione felt the wind go out of her as she fell rear end first to the floor. "Sorry," she squeaked out before looking up.

Draco Malfoy stood towering over her. His head whipped around before he held out a hand to her. "Here, let me help," he said. She put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "It was my fault anyhow."

Hermione shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts. "No, I should have been watching where I was going. Those two are just so frustrating." A pink tinge dusted her cheeks and her heart rate sped a bit when she noticed that the blonde in front of her was still holding her hand.

"Potter and Weasel?" he inquired, seeming perfectly fine with the position they were in. Hermione nodded slightly. "What did they do this time?"

She was hesitant to say, scared that this new Draco would disappear if he knew. One look at those gray eyes softened her into telling. "I'm just not sure why they can't leave the past where it is," she concluded as they reached the portrait to their dorm. Draco spoke the words that would grant them access and allowed her to step through first.

"I'm the bad guy," was his only reply. The nonchalant way he spoke, as if he'd just told her he made toast, angered the young Gryffindor.

"How dare you," she spoke in an angry whisper. "How can you still think that way?"

Draco collapsed into an armchair near the fire, his head resting against the back. "I was a Death Eater, Hermione. I tried to assassinate the Headmaster. I allowed other Death Eaters to enter the school, to hurt children, your friends."

Hermione moved closer to him, grabbed his hand, and implored him to look her in the eye. "You had no choice."

"No choice?" Draco's tone was even once again. "I could have told _him_ I didn't want to, let him do whatever he wanted with my pathetic excuse for a family."

"He would have killed you too," she pointed out.

"Would have been better that way," Draco mumbled. "I stood by and watched my psychotic aunt torture you." His slate eyes traced the faint scar on her neck, the one she'd received at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her thinner fingers traced the path that his eyes followed. "This is not your fault," she pointed out, hoping he'd see her reason. He shook his head, eyes moving to the flickering red and orange light that bounced in the fireplace. She moved to stand in front of him. "Draco, there was nothing you could have done."

Again, Draco shook his head, but his expression was resigned to believe her. "I'm not sure if it means anything now, but if I could have done something then to help, I would have."

A smile ghosted across her lips as she stood from her prostrated position next to his chair. "It makes all the difference in the world."


	3. Chapter 3

I would have posted this yesterday, but as luck would have it my boss actually made me do work. Luckily, those aren't quite my intentions today. Sometimes I wonder how it's possible I'm still employed. Anywho, here it is! Read, review, enjoy, look forward to the next chapter!

I still own nothing. And my general area smells like a McDonald's. Can't decide if that's good or bad.

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Chapter 3

It was an unseasonably warm day for mid-April. The wind blew slightly, but the sun shone brightly. The weather had been that way for a week. Draco, back against a tree for support, alternated his sight between the book in his lap and the Black Lake. It was the good days, the nice days, that he missed the friends he once had. Loneliness had been a constant feeling even then, but at least they were company.

His heart lifted at the sight of a bushy haired, thin framed Gryffindor carrying a small plate of toast. "Out for a stroll?" he called out when he was sure she could hear him.

"I didn't see you at breakfast," she told him, taking a seat next to him before offering him a slice. Gratefully, he accepted it, munching in silence.

After finishing off a fourth slice, Draco looked over to see the amused look on Hermione's face. "Boys eat," he told her. "Get over it." There was no sneer, no offensive undertones. He was only joking. Draco Malfoy was joking. She let out a small laugh and held up her hands in mock surrender. "Won't your friends miss you if you're here with me?"

The laughter died on her lips and she shrugged her right shoulder. "Who knows. They're off doing whatever it is they do with Ginny and Lavender. I'd really rather not be present for that."

Draco nodded, turning the book in his hands over and over. He noticed her eying it and handed it over to her. "I like Russian literature," he told her defensively.

"_Crime and Punishment_ though?"

"I feel like I can relate."

Hermione let out a loud, frustrated sigh. "This speech again? Really?" she asked, handing the book back to him with a little more force than she intended. "If you want my opinion, you and Raskolnikov have absolutely nothing in common."

Draco's form slumped back against the tree. "All we have is things in common. He's a killer, I'm a killer-"

"And just who was it that you've killed?" she interjected.

"Dumbledore," he muttered, eyes fixing on the lake once more.

"Snape did that." He couldn't believe how dismissive her tone was when she said it. His snort told her he hadn't appreciated that comment. "I just mean that you chose not to do it. That's much more admirable than killing just to kill."

Draco's lips set into a thin line. Suddenly, he wished for that old feeling of loneliness. "He goes insane," he halfheartedly offered.

"With guilt," she countered, "because he killed two innocent women."

Draco shrugged. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could feel guilty?"

Again she sighed. If their conversations took this same circular pattern each time, Hermione feared she too would go insane.

"Plus," his voice broke through her thoughts, "I'm talking to you. Someone should lock me up in St. Mungo's with a straitjacket."

He received a smack, albeit a playful one, on the arm for that comment. But the pair continued on, discussing books and bantering back and forth as the day drifted on. It became a routine for them on those warm, beautiful days to sit outdoors together over breakfast.

They thought the world wouldn't notice or care about their time spent together. She deftly made up excuses when Harry and Ron would ask her to watch Quidditch practice or take a walk with them; she had already made plans with Draco. Their routine became a drug for both of them. Draco often spent classes he didn't have with Gryffindor checking his pocket watch, counting the seconds until he could go back to the common room. Hermione relished the nights they'd fall asleep against each other, too tired from talking to make it up to their rooms. He was no longer embarrassed to be seen leaving their dorm together, and she was thrilled with any little touch he gave her, public or private.

She was ambushed one day, leaving Ancient Runes, by Harry and Ron. Her nose was still in the textbook as she walked, seemingly right past them.

"Oi, Hermione," Ron called out. In a few long strides he and Harry were both next to her.

"Oh, hi boys," she replied airily.

"Oh, hi? We don't see you for three weeks straight, and all we get is oh, hi?" Harry sounded angry, she realized.

"Yeah, Mione, where have you been off to these past few weeks?" Ron inquired.

Hermione scoffed. "I've been studying for the N.E.W.T.s, unlike the two of you I'm sure."

Just like their previous conversations the two boys watched their friend storm off.

"How does she do that?" Ron asked. "She always manages to turn everything around on us."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, but she only does it when she's hiding something. And I, for one, would like to know what exactly that is."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione sat with her back pressed against the base of the couch, an open text book splayed across her outstretched legs. The book, though, held none of her attention. She could feel Harry and Ron slipping away from her, knowing it was her fault for being less than attentive towards them. And for what? So she could spend a few private nights talking to Draco Malfoy? Tomorrow she would talk to them, she decided, she needed them.

"You're supposed to sit _on_ the couch, Granger," she heard Draco say as he walked over to sit beside her on the floor.

"So then why are you sitting on the floor with me?" she retorted, cocking an eyebrow.

Draco tilted his head, pretending to think over his answer. "I'd hate for you to think that I expect you to sit at my feet. Even if I am _the_ Draco Malfoy."

"Your modesty knows no bounds," she muttered, turning a page in her book.

"Talk to me," Draco murmured, nudging his shoulder against hers. She shook her head. "Is it about your friends? It seems like it's been awhile since I've seen you with them."

"We're friends, right? You and me?" Her voice sounded so small in her ears, fearful of what he might say. The fear ebbed when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. "Why can't Harry and Ron see in you what I see?"

"Really, we're having this conversation again?" he asked, disdain dripping from each word. Silence fell over them, neither having the courage to break it. "You know how kids always have grand dreams of what they'll be when they grow up?"

"I wanted to be an astronaut," Hermione told him, only to receive a strange look of inquiry. "They travel into space, walk on the moon. It was a really exciting possibility when I was six."

Draco nodded in agreement. "I wanted to be my father. You were right that night when you said I felt a need to model myself after him. I can remember seeing the mark on his arm since I was young. It was colorless back then, since the Dark...since Voldemort had disappeared, but I could still make out the design where it was raised against his skin. He told me it was a sign that we were better, above everyone else, and that for some reason excited me. I didn't know what he did or even what a Death Eater was back then. I just wanted so much to be like my father."

A hand wrapped around his left wrist, pulling it away from him. Hermione lifted back the sleeve of his robes to reveal his own dark mark. He flinched as her cool fingers traced the scarring of the brand that marred his flesh.

"Grotesque, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes tracing the movement of her fingertips.

"Maybe on someone else," Hermione reasoned, "but not you."

Something unlike he'd ever felt before took over his senses. His right hand moved up to cup her cheek as he leaned in to capture her lips. A small squeak of surprise vibrated against his lips, causing him to smile a bit, before she reciprocated his actions. Their movements were slow, savoring the feeling of one another, neither wanting the moment to end.

"I'll talk to them if you want me to," Draco told her when they finally pulled away.

Hermione shook her head, and moved to stand up. "It's no use. You're the bad guy, remember?"

A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips as Draco, too, stood up. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her thin body against his. "I thought you said I wasn't the bad guy anymore."

Hermione drew her arms around his neck, pulling him closer for another kiss. "I don't think you are, but Harry and Ron are stubborn."

"Or stupid," Draco murmured against her lips. "Funny how often that line is blurred."

Hermione laughed, but agreed with that assessment. It couldn't hurt to have them all talk. Maybe her friends would finally understand the change of heart Draco had had. Or they would hex him into oblivion and never speak to her again for deigning to have anything to do with a Malfoy.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, a blonde eyebrow raising, as the back of his hand stroked her cheek. It colored slightly under his touch.

"I was thinking that maybe we could have lunch with Ron and Harry tomorrow," Hermione decided. "It might not be so bad. Luckily for you they don't know how to transfigure people."

Draco released a nervous laugh, but agreed to lunch knowing she'd be by his side. The next day was to be a Hogsmeade day.

A breeze whisked through the air, the clouds covering the sun; the day was cold enough for snow. One hand held the top of her coat closed around her throat, while her other wound through Draco's arm for support. The pair was only too happy to reach the warmth of the Three Broomsticks. At a table in the back, just to the right of the fireplace, sat Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Ron caught sight of them first.

"What's he doing here?" Ron demanded, pushing back his chair to stand to his full height. Harry tugged on his arm to make him sit, but the angry redhead jerked it away. "No, Harry. What happened to having lunch with your best friends, huh, Hermione? You go days, weeks even without seeing us outside of classes, you hang around with Malfoy, and now you decide he's part of our group?"

Hermione sighed, holding tightly to Draco's arm to keep him from running. "Draco and I are friends. The war is over, Ronald. There are no more sides. It would be nice if we could all get along with one another."

A stare-down ensued between the two friends. Harry, eying one then the other, turned his attention to Draco. He stood, stuck out a hand, and said, "Have a seat. I'm starving."

Three sets of eyes landed on Harry, his hand still extended toward the blonde. A small smile crossed Draco's face as he accepted the handshake before pulling out a chair for Hermione. Ron sat, arms across his chest, with a scowl on his face throughout their meal. Harry and Hermione, at random times, would open their mouths as if to say something before closing it again, nothing coming out. Draco spent most of the time staring at his food or checking to see that Hermione was still seated next to him. Their time together was awkward, to say the least; quiet tension resonating as no one knew what to say.

"That was the most painful experience of my life," Draco commented as they watched Ron and Harry exit the pub.

"I really hadn't anticipated it being that way," Hermione responded, resting her forehead against her arms that were crossed on the table top.

Draco laughed as a comforting hand slowly rubbed the brunette's back. "I did," was all he said. Hermione turned her head to shoot him an inquiring look. "I did," he reiterated. "You can't honestly expect the three of us to get along right off the bat. They're still mad at me for the things I've done over the years."

"I've gotten over it," she mumbled. "Why can't they?"

He offered her two words - "bad guy". The young witch groaned, pushed out her chair, and walked away. Draco watched in a stunned silence as she retreated. With a sigh, he threw a couple of galleons down on the table and followed her.

"What did I do?" he asked, running after her, the cold breeze stinging his eyes.

Hermione whirled around when his hand clutched her arm. She wanted to slap him as she had in third year. She wanted to yell at him. Instead she hugged him, her arms tightly wound around his neck. "I can't stand it anymore. I really need you to stop saying that."

Draco sighed, his arms slipping around her waist. "Just because you don't see me that way anymore, doesn't mean your friends have quite figured it out for themselves."


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! Sorry it's been a few days since I've posted a chapter. I've had a touch of writer's block lately, but hopefully it's getting better!

I still own nothing, sadly. Enjoy the chapter!

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Chapter 5

Harry Potter sat alone, Transfiguration book in hand, in the Great Hall the next morning, waiting for Ron and breakfast to appear.

"We need to talk," a quiet voice spoke, pulling him out of the pages of his textbook. "Where's Ronald?"

The raven-haired boy looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Is this about Malfoy?" Harry inquired. Hermione nodded, taking a seat across from him. "Haven't seen Ron yet. He was up and out of our room before I woke up."

The young witch nodded. "Do you think he's mad at me? For the Draco ambush at lunch yesterday?" she wondered, pouring pumpkin juice into her goblet.

"He's stubborn," was Harry's only reply. The pair slipped into silence as students filtered into the Great Hall, taking seats at their House tables, as breakfast appeared on silver platters before them.

"So, looks like we're all friends again." Hermione looked up to see Ron standing behind Harry, a look of contempt on his pale, freckled face. His arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at her. "Where's Malfoy? Shouldn't you be glued to his side now instead of sitting with us?"

"I'm still a Gryffindor, Ronald, and I'll sit here with my friends if I feel like it." Her tone was even, but she had to fight her emotions to keep it that way.

Ron turned to Harry. "I'm going back upstairs. Coming?"

Harry, in turn, forked another sausage and bit into it. "No, I'm good here. Hermione has something to discuss with us anyhow, and I for one am interested in hearing her out."

A huff came from the tall redhead as he took a seat next to his best friend, his gaze fixed solely on Hermione. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him, daring the young witch to proceed.

"Draco's changed," Hermione started, causing Ron to snort. "He has. We've all had to grow up pretty quickly, and he's starting to see the errors of his father's thinking. It was his idea to talk to you two, not mine. I said it was a bad idea. I said you two would never go for being anything even remotely civil towards Draco Malfoy. Thanks, Ronald, for proving me right, by the way. The bottom line is you are my best friends, and I need you."

Having heard enough, Ron shook his head and left the breakfast table. The pair still seated watched as their best friend departed.

"I get it," Harry told her. "Go talk to Ron." Hermione flashed Harry a grateful smile, which he returned around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. She sprinted out of the Great Hall despite warnings of detention from Professor Snape. Ron was halfway up the first staircase that led to the Gryffindor dormitories. She called out to him, begging him to stop. Begrudgingly, he acquiesced and turned to face her.

"So, you _need _us, but you'd rather spend all your time with _him_," Ron spat out. "Am I getting this right?"

"Would it be so wrong to have a friend outside of you and Harry?" Hermione inquired, closing the distance created by the stairs. "You have Lavender and Harry has Ginny. Why can't I have someone?"

"People like Malfoy don't change," Ron said, trying to keep his cool. "He's been told for seventeen years that your type is the enemy. That doesn't just change one day, out of the blue, just because You-Know-Who is gone. You might think he's changed, but Draco Malfoy is always going to be that spoiled git who insulted us and hurt us for the past seven years."

Hermione nodded, taking in his words, but refused to believe them. "Where does this put us?" she asked, fear coloring her voice, making it sound weak in her ears.

Ron shrugged, turned away slightly, and answered, "I don't know if we can be friends with him in your life."

Then he walked away.

"And just like that, he was gone," Hermione finished, tears forming a steady streak down her face. "He wants me to choose - you or them."

Draco faced the fire, watching the flames dance merrily in direct contrast to his current mood. "Well, you know what you'll have to do then, don't you." His voice was cold, unfeeling as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

"You can't honestly expect me to choose," Hermione cried.

"_I _don't," Draco corrected her, still unable to look at her. "Your friends do. And we both know you should choose them."

"It's only Ron," Hermione reasoned, moving closer to wrap her arms around his torso. "Harry seems okay. I don't think you'll be exchanging friendship charms any time soon, but he doesn't seem to be as prone to hexing you as Ron."

Draco pulled away. Standing, he walked over to the staircase that led to his room. "I'm not doing this anymore," he declared. "Just go back to hating me."

He watched her, a flurry of flying curls, storm over to her own staircase. "I thought you weren't a coward anymore, Draco Malfoy, but maybe I was wrong." Her door slammed shut, the frame around it rattling in its place. Slowly, he crossed the common room and climbed the stairs. An internal debate sounded in his head; knock or don't knock. He wouldn't be a coward, not this time, and not with this girl.

"What do you want?" she asked as the door creaked open.

The blonde ran a hand through his locks. "I know what I don't want," he started. "I'm tired of being the guy who hides behind arrogance and my last name. I don't want to be a coward. I don't want to be the bad guy. I don't want to make you choose sides. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I'd just changed something sooner, would I still get to have you. I don't want you to hate me."

Hermione rested her head against the door. "So what do you want?" she asked again.

"You," was his reply as he pulled her towards him. His kiss was gentle, hesitant; Hermione could sense his fear as his lips parted from hers. "I want you."

Their foreheads met, resting against each other, willing one to hold up the other. "You're not the bad guy," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Well, I got absolutely zero writing done this weekend. I did cook and rearrange the furniture in my apartment. My advice for the day - dropping a couch on your foot is a terrible idea. Heh, so anyway, I own nothing. Read, enjoy, feel free to review. I've also started a couple of one-shots to fill in my time with the writer's block I sometimes seem to hit, so look out for those!

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Chapter 6

Ron sat in the common room awaiting Harry's return from breakfast. He could feel the reddening in his cheeks, the heat that built up from his confrontation with the girl he once fancied. He shook his head, pushing that thought far away. Lavender had been his choice, and he was happy with her. "She's gonna pick him," Ron said as Harry entered the room.

"Who's gonna pick whom?" Harry inquired, taking a seat near the fire.

"Hermione," he replied. "She's gonna pick Malfoy. Over us."

Harry groaned, a hand pushing back his bangs. "You gave her an ultimatum?" The redhead winced, but nodded. "You realize that all you're doing is pushing her farther away, right? It's bad enough she's been avoiding us for as long as she has. If she thinks we're making her choose it won't end well for either one of us."

"I know," Ron grumbled, his head hung.

"Why would you tell her she had to choose then?"

He shrugged.

"I'm not making her choose, Ron. When you talk to her, because you have to straighten this out, tell her that I want nothing to do with this. I'll make nice with Malfoy if it means not losing Hermione. You might want to share those sentiments yourself."

Ron watched as Harry stalked up to his room. He stared off into the fire as if it held all the answers. Moments later all thoughts of Hermione were cast aside as a very perky Lavender Brown occupied his attention.

The library was quiet. Pages rustled here and there, a thudding sound from a replaced book echoed from time to time. Draco didn't care about any of it though. He hadn't come to read or study or catch up on homework. All of that had been taken care of already. He relished the mostly deserted back corner of the great library. It allowed him a quiet place to think.

That was until he was interrupted by the presence of a certain redheaded Gryffindor.

He looked up to see an uncomfortable looking Ron Weasley, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his jeans, foot shuffling nervously against the carpet, and eyes not daring to meet his own.

"I thought I might find Hermione here," he muttered, picking a spot on the bookshelf behind Draco to focus on.

"Something you'd like to say to me, Weasley?" Draco inquired, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Ron shot a quick glance to the blonde before him as he moved into a chair across from him. "I'm guessing Hermione told you. About what I said to her." Draco nodded, but said nothing. "I don't think I've got the nerve to talk to her. Well, we both know to stay away from an angry Hermione."

Again, Draco nodded remembering many a time he was on the receiving end of Hermione's anger. "You want me to talk to her, don't you." It was Ron's turn to nod now. One blonde eyebrow piqued before Draco shook his head. "I'm not doing it."

"Why not?" Ron asked, the redness in his face in direct proportion to the shortening of his temper.

Draco scoffed, pushed out his chair and stood. "This isn't my fight."

Ron, too, stood to his full height, effectively blocking Draco's exit. "This bloody well is your fight. If you'd just left her alone none of us would be in this position."

Anger seethed deep within the blonde. "Because I'm the one who suggested she choose sides?" Draco inquired. "I'm not backing down, Weasley. Not this time. Until she decides otherwise, we're together. So, I'd get used to that if I were you." He pushed past the taller boy, making his way out of the library. He took the stairs leading to the Heads' dorm two at a time, suddenly feeling very anxious to see one particular witch.

She was seated again, back against the couch, book on her lap, eyes settled elsewhere. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me," she said, sensing his presence. He was before her, moving the book out of the way.

"I love you, Hermione," Draco declared, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

"What?" she asked, brown eyes connecting with gray.

"I love you," he repeated, his face feeling hot.

The brunette scowled. "What makes you say that?"

Draco, ever the confident, arrogant man that he was, sputtered. "What?"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "How do you know that you love me?" she repeated.

"Because," Draco said, "because I've never felt that butterflies in the stomach before with anyone else. Because even when I'm trying to avoid you I'm still drawn right back to you. Because I feel this strong urge to be a better person, and I'm pretty sure that's because of you. Because I've never been happier than I have been with you this year. Because I love you, Hermione. I've never told another girl that, because I never believed that I might ever actually love one them. But I can say it to you and truly, with all my heart, believe it."

Their hands were clasped tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure. "I love you too," she whispered, closing the distance between them to press her lips to his.

Draco pulled away first. "You should talk to Weasley."

"Did you tell me all of that because you want me to choose them? Because, after all of that, knowing how you feel, I can't do that. I won't choose between you and them."

He pushed a loose curl behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek. "So tell him that."


	7. Chapter 7

Hi all! Thanks so very much for reading and loving and reviewing! I'm sad to say that the story is almost at an end. There will be a chapter after this, so as to appease my need for things to be in even numbers. Oh, and wrap up the story of course. I'm about 95.6% sure that'll be it though. So, as usual I own nothing (but how cool would it be if I did?)

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Chapter 7

The wind whipped across the lake making the air feel chillier than it needed to be. Standing lakeside on a cold, blustery winter day wasn't the smartest of decisions, but this was where Ron Weasley agreed to meet Hermione Granger. The sun shone brightly for the first time in days, a sign that maybe things just might be looking up.

He was already there when she arrived. Suddenly, upon seeing the tall, looming figure that was Ronald Weasley, Hermione felt the urge to run. But he saw her before she could. In a few quick strides he was before her, pulling her into a hug that she desperately wanted out of.

"So, you've made your decision then?" There was the slightest glimmer of hope and optimism to his words. The brunette nodded, but refused to look up to meet his eyes. "Well, then, go on."

She exhaled slowly, not realizing she'd been holding in her breath. "I'm not choosing."

"Well, that's not much of a decision," Ron retorted, turning back to watch the water.

"You can't honestly expect me to choose, Ronald," she admonished, feeling her anger build inside.

"We're your friends, practically your family, last I checked."

"And here I thought my friends and family would want me to be happy!"

Ron scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, and I assume Malfoy makes you happy then?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't keep having this same argument with you. When I said that I wanted to talk to you it was just to say that a friend wouldn't make me choose. What you do with that is up to you." She took one last long glance at the redhead before her, turned, and walked back to the castle. The familiar sensation of tears stung her eyes, but she pushed them away with the back of her hand.

Two figures exited the Great Hall just as she reached the staircase. Two unlikely people joined in a conversation, one laughing at something the other said, as they climbed up behind her. Hermione turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of platinum blonde hair. She turned to face the pair when she reached the top step.

"Hey Mione," came the greeting from Harry Potter. She stood, slack-jawed, glancing from one boy to the other.

"Am I seeing things?" she inquired when she finally found her voice.

Draco moved forward, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek when he reached her. "We were talking about the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff game from last week." Brown eyes darted to the dark haired boy for confirmation.

"Such a sad display of Quidditch," Harry commented, shaking his head humorously. He looked up, green eyes catching brown. "I told you - I'm fine with whatever it is the two of you have. Just no snogging in front of me."

Hermione moved away from Draco and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

"Talk to Weasley yet?" Draco asked when the two friends pulled apart. Hermione nodded sadly.

"Didn't go so well?" inquired Harry.

"Not so much, but I don't really feel like talking about it," Hermione replied resolutely. "I have some homework to finish up anyhow. I'll see you both later."

The boys watched the young witch disappear up the stairs before Draco turned back to Harry. "I think I may kill the weasel."

Harry's eyebrows raised, but his features remained solemn. "I think I may help."

It was over. Seven years of friendship snuffed out by a choice. A choice he didn't really want to force her to make, but did anyway. A choice he wasn't satisfied with. Why couldn't he just be satisfied with her choice?

He loved her. A small piece of Ron Weasley still loved Hermione Granger. Despite his girlfriend, despite her...boyfriend, despite the years of hidden feelings and secret longings, he still loved her. He still wanted her.

And now, the thought sunk in, he'd never have her.

Ron Weasley kicked the trunk at the foot of his bed, not caring enough about the jolt of pain that shot up his leg.

"Surprisingly not the dumbest thing you've done today."

Ron slowly turned around, his eyes narrowed as they focused on Draco Malfoy with Harry a step behind him.

"What's he doing here?" Ron demanded, looking past the Slytherin.

"How'd the big apology go?" Harry countered, now moving to stand side-by-side with Draco.

Ron turned away and mumbled, "Didn't get to it." He heard a shuffle of feet behind him, heard what sounded like one restraining the other.

"I thought that was the whole point of the talk this morning," Harry said through clenched teeth. "She seemed pretty upset when we ran into her before."

Ron sunk down to sit on his trunk. "You two friends now, then?" he asked, his voice bitter. Harry moved to sit on the trunk across from the redhead; Draco stood still by the door.

"Hermione's asked that we accept her relationship with Malfoy. That's what I'm doing," Harry responded.

Ron sighed. "She said a real friend wouldn't make her choose. How am I supposed to take that?"

A scoff passed through Draco's lips. "Maybe she's trying to tell you that you aren't a real friend," he suggested, the typical Malfoy sneer gracing his features. "Maybe she's trying to tell you that only a git would put her in this situation. Maybe she's trying to tell you that you've already made her decision for her. Any of this sound right?"

Ron hung his head, refusing to admit that maybe Draco Malfoy could be right. "So what do I do?" he asked, looking only to Harry.

It was Draco who provided an answer though. "You apologize."


	8. Chapter 8

Hi all, Happy Halloween! Thanks for sticking with me through this story. Hope you all enjoy the last chapter! As it turns out, eight chapters later, I still don't own anything.

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The fresh piece of parchment sat before her on the desk; an inked quill in hand. Hermione had no idea what to say beyond the initial greeting. She couldn't even be sure who she was addressing the letter to; there were too many people she needed to confront.

Setting quill to parchment, her neat cursive scrawled across, the scratching the only resonating sound in the room. The things that needed to be said needed to be said in a hurry. She hadn't the heart to say what needed to be said to anyone's face.

And so she wrote. Stray, unwanted tear drops fell to the paper before her, smudging the ink. With a quick wave of her wand, the irksome spots disappeared, leaving the appearance of untarnished writing. A sigh of relief was uttered as she signed her name, folded the parchment, and tucked it neatly into an envelope.

Exiting the Heads' dormitory, Hermione made her way to the owlery, growing more fearful with each step that she would be unable to bring herself to send the letter. It needs to be done, she told herself, it needs to be done.

The wind whipped bitterly as she climbed the winding staircase that led to the tower that housed the school's owls. Ice and snow covered sections of the steps impeding her way to the top. Finally, she reached the room filled with hooting fowl, looking for a free bird to carry out her quest.

Someone else was in the room, standing just behind her as she attached the message to the owl's leg.

"Haven't seen much of you today," came the drawl from the platinum blonde behind her. Hermione turned slowly to face Draco.

"I've had some thinking to do," she told him, finding it hard to look him in the eye.

Draco nodded, pushing locks of hair away from his gray eyes. "Thinking about school?" he inquired, taking steps closer to her. Hermione shook her head. "Thinking about a certain devilishly handsome Head Boy then?" A blush rose in her cheeks as a smile pulled at her lips, but again Hermione shook her head. Draco sighed. "Thinking about Weasley?"

Hermione looked up, the mask of shock that crossed her face was a give away. She nodded.

"Shall we talk about it?" Draco asked, closing the gap between them.

"No," she emphatically stated. "I really don't want to talk about it."

The blonde backed away. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Hermione moved to the stairs. "Maybe I don't want your help."

Draco stood in his place as he watched her make her way down the stairs.

A letter landed in front of Ron Weasley just as dinner appeared on the long tables in the Great Hall. His blue eyes widened when he recognized the handwriting.

"Who's it from?" asked his sister, Ginny, who sat directly across from him.

"Hermione," answered Harry, shooting an inquisitive look to his best friend. He watched as Ron tucked it into the sleeve of his robes before he resolutely picked up his fork to spear a piece of chicken. "Not planning to read it?"

Ron shrugged. "It can wait. Should probably be read in private anyhow."

Harry's gaze flicked from the redhead beside him to the end of the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy sat in silence, pushing his food from one end of the plate to the other. "I'll be back," he announced, pushing away from the Gryffindor table. Ginny and Ron both looked on with concern as the Boy Who Lived approved the reformed Death Eater.

"Wonder what that's all about," Ginny murmured, but Ron went back to his supper.

Draco looked up, sensing a presence before him. "Mind if I sit?" Harry asked. He received an uninterested shoulder shrug, and took it as a yes. The unlikely pair sat in silence, noticing the stares and whispers they received.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco spat out, mashing his fork against the baked potato he didn't really care about.

"You looked upset," Harry responded. "And I haven't seen Hermione at all today, not even during lessons. Thought you might have some insight on that."

The fork clattered to the table as Draco looked eye to eye with the raven haired boy. Regaining his composure, the Head Boy once again picked up his fork. "I don't know anything about that. She doesn't seem to be talking to me lately."

Harry nodded in ascent. "That seems to be a trend with her as of late. Ron got a letter from her just now."

Gray eyes glanced up to meet green, before wandering over to settle on the Weasley boy. "How nice," Draco sneered, pushing away his plate. "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I've quite lost my appetite."

He took the stairs slowly, dreading the return to his dorm. The password was mumbled and the portrait swung open. There in the common room was Hermione Granger.

"Hi," he said uneasily, knowing he couldn't get passed her undetected.

Hermione gaze moved to take in the blonde she'd learned to love. "Hi," she replied, trying with all her might to give him the smile he deserved. "Come sit with me?" Her voice was small and meek, unlike the tone he had become accustomed to over the years. Draco moved slowly, hesitantly sitting a foot away.

"I reckon you suddenly feel like talking then?" Hermione flinched at the cold, hard tone of his voice, but nodded. "Are we...is this over?"

"What? Is that what you think?" Hermione reached out to take his hand, but Draco pulled away.

"How could I not think that?" Draco shouted, rising from his place. "You've stopped talking to me altogether. This stupid thing with Weasley has you completely shut down. I told you you would choose them, guess I was right. You belong with them."

"I told you I wasn't choosing, and I haven't shut down," she cried. "I want you, Draco. I need you. I just need a little time."

Draco moved to his staircase. "Well then, Granger, take all the time you need."

Ron Weasley paced in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She requested another meeting, and Ron would deny Hermione nothing anymore. His nerves built as the minutes passed. Never before had Hermione Granger been late.

"Sorry," she called out in a thick voice as she ran into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

Ron held her close, feeling the front of his robes build with moisture. "What, Hermione? No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have been so thick."

The brunette pulled away, wiping furiously at her eyes to rid them of the offending tears. "No, I should have known better. What was I thinking? Draco Malfoy can't change."

The redhead looped a comforting arm around the girl's shoulders. "Did something happen?"

"I think we broke up," she mumbled. "I tried to talk to him, but he's stubborn."

Ron removed the parchment, the letter with the familiar script, from his robes. "Did you mean what you said in this?" Hermione nodded, feeling the paper press into her hand. "Then maybe Malfoy should read this too."

The letter turned over and over in her shaking hands. "Not sure he'll care at this point."

"If he feels the same way about you that you feel about him, he'll read it. I get it now, you two need each other. I'm okay with that. You deserve your happiness." Ron pressed his lips to the young witch's forehead, uttered the Gryffindor password, and disappeared.

Hermione stood speechless before the Fat Lady, wishing she could summon the courage associated with her House. She moved through the winding hallways, oblivious to the students who moved away from one another or into abandoned classrooms to avoid a detention from the Head Girl. Her mind was on something other than the rules though, and she was in a hurry. The staircases changed, carrying the girl to the Heads' Tower. She spoke the password and entered, running to the steps that would lead her to Draco. She pounded on his door, begging him to let her in.

"What do you want?" he finally asked, annoyance dripping from each word. She thrust the letter towards him. "Your letter to Weasley? I don't care what it says."

"Please, just read it," she said, holding it out to him again. Draco shook his head, moving to close the door.

"If you won't take it, I'll just read it to you," Hermione responded.

"That a threat, Granger?" The parchment rustled before the door creaked open. He turned to face her. "I don't recall inviting you to come in."

"Dear Ron," she began reading despite Draco's protests. "Since the beginning of our time at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy was the bad guy. To this day, I can still remember times when he did seem that way. He has his good points too, though. I don't expect you to see them the way I can, but know that they're there. We've all got a touch of the bad guy in us, but there's still good to be found. I love Draco, Ron, in a way that I've never thought I'd be able to love someone. It's almost scary, this feeling."

"Please stop," Draco whispered, turning to her, taking in the sparkle her brown eyes held. He latched onto the letter in her hands, and she allowed him to cast it aside.

"I love you," Hermione said, refusing to break eye contact with the Slytherin before her.

"What about Weasley?" Draco inquired, placing a tentative hand on the side of her neck.

"I don't love him," she joked, but sobered immediately at the cross look on his face. "He understands." Rising on her toes, Hermione's lips met the familiar ones before her in a chaste kiss.

"So, all's right with the Golden Trio, then? You and Weasley make up, and things go back to the way they were?"

He watched her lower back down to her normal height and pull away. "I had hoped that this wasn't over. I don't want it to be over. I liked the Draco I got to see over the last few months."

"I did too," he admitted. "Not sure I want to go back to being the bad guy."

Hermione sighed, pulling his hands into her own. "When will you learn you're not always the bad guy?"

The End.


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